Knight in a White Stetson by Claire King Read Free Book Online

haystack behind her, while his body started an astonishing bump and grind against hers.
    Her head suddenly weighed about eighty pounds, and it dropped back at the erotic contact, breaking his kiss. For moments they just breathed on one another, his eyes shut tight in concentration, hers half-lidded, watching him, amazed.
    Fast, so fast. From nothing to this … so fast. She let herself drift. She’d go at any speed he’d take her.
    His fingers gripped the stack to keep from tearing at her clothes to get to the skin underneath. But he unclamped them now, his discipline in tatters. They met at the back of her skull as he pulled her back to his mouth.
    But, oh, they wouldn’t stay still. He ran them under her arms and to her back, down then to her bottom, pulling her up to meet his painful, heart-stopping arousal, staying there for the longest, excruciating moments while he moved against her. Then clutching her to him though she could get no closer, he banded his arms against her back, then released his fierce hold to brush his fingertips against the soft sides of her breasts.
    He tried, God knows, he tried to be content with that. But every ordered thing about him, every restraint, every moderate, cautious habit, drained right out of his body. Or was burned away by the heat, he didn’t know. He brought his hands between their bodies. And touched her. Finally, to be touching her.
    The moan that left her mouth to come to his was like a gift. His chest constricted, and all he could think was that he hadn’t felt this sweet piercing wonder before, not even the first time he’d touched a woman, not even as a young man. He levered himself away from her body to watch his hands on her.
    “Calla,” he breathed, lifting the weight of her breasts in his hands, molding her, stroking, then slowly lifting his head to see her eyes glaze as he ran his thumbs over her hardened nipples, feeling her rise to meet his touch through her work shirt and bra.
    “Oh.” Her breath caught. “Oh.” And again. The sensation was too much, by a million miles too much. Moisture flooded her, blood pumped at her center, every pore and vessel and nerve opened to him.
    He dropped to his knees in the hard-packed dirt of the stack yard, burying his face between her breasts, seeking the sex, the solace, the heat of her. He took a nipple between his teeth and gently bit her through her clothing.
    Calla felt herself slipping slowly down to the ground in front of him, eager for a closer connection. Her strong hands clutched at him, seeking a more intimate touch.
    The sound of the horn was unbelievably loud in her ears. Her eyes flew open and she looked over to see Lester waving wildly at her from the ranch truck. A little scream escaped her, a completely different kind of little scream from the one Henry had swallowed with his mouth a moment before. She struggled to her feet, her knees oddly weak.
    “Damn,” she said, her hands clawing into the hay behind her. “Damn, damn, damn.”
    Henry had considerably less trouble regaining his footing, and steadied her with one hand. Then, without looking at her, he strode quickly over to Lester’s truck where it hugged the fence of the stack yard, and leaned across the fence into the open passenger window.
    “I’m going to kill you, Lester,” Henry said through gritted teeth. “You scared Calla half to death. What the hell are you doing?”
    “What the hell am I doing?” Lester sputtered. “What the hell are you doing? It’s broad-damn-daylight out here.”
    “You got three seconds to get away from me, Lester, before I do something rash.” He was feeling rash. He was feeling homicidal. A moment ago he’d been as aroused as he’d ever been, and that arousal had viciously turned itself to something else, a readiness. He was anxious to do battle.
    Lester was not intimidated. “You got less than that to get away from Calla, spud. I just passed her boyfriend on the road. He’s heading this way.” Lester